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post #1 of 3 (permalink) Old 06-26-10, 03:44 PM Thread Starter
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Default Inquisitor's Warrant

Here's an Inquisitorial fiction I have began to work on, currently it is just begining however, but I want to get some general opinions on it. Thus far it is far from great, but I am happy with it overall. Hopefully you will enjoy, comments are needed really


‘I must admit I am knew to the customs of the Rogue Traders, but I do not understand such flamboyant natures’ the ancient voice of Lord-Inquisitor Helios croaked like cracking leather as he slowly ascended the marble stairs, flanked either side by beetle-armoured Arbitrators. Each carried glistening shotguns across their wide chests, their blank visors suspecting and malicious. Their right shoulders were draped in crimson togas which pooled out behind them, wrapped around their hip upon the left side.

A terse clapping sounded and Helios stopped, his red power-armoured form hissing steam and whirring loudly. Atop the steps stood a elegant figure in a form hugging greatcoat, the collars of which were turned upwards to cast a shadow across the figures features. He wore a narrow slither of hair along his scalp, the remainder of which was clad in narcotic inducing pipes. Both of his regal eyes shorn bright in the false-light from above, and Helios watched them twinkle gently. Knee length boots clattered against the ground as he marched downwards towards Helios and his pair of operatives, both of which had grown tense and let their fingers wrap around stoic triggers.

‘There is nothing wrong with flamboyancy, is there Helios?’ inquired the figure, his voice akin to running water, utterly soothing. Clearly a Bionic embedment in the vocal chords of the man, thought Helios as one of his men reacted.

‘You will call him by his title dog or I shall be forced to put a round through your skull’ the Arbitrator was now moving forwards with his weapon shouldered, growling like a rabid hound, his stance threatening.

‘That will be enough Markus!’ boomed Helios and the Arbitrator, Markus instantly felt nauseous. He stumbled with one hand holding his weapon, the other steadying himself with the other. The figure kept moving past him until a scarce eight steps separated Helios and himself. Markus was groaning, and had now thrown his helm onto the ground with a clatter to show his tanned complexion, crisscrossed with scarlet scarring.

‘Who are you?’ mused Helios as his gloved right hand wrapped around the pommel of his bone-blade, slow moving fingers caressing the emerald embedded upon the tip.

‘I am a Philomath much like yourself, Helios. I know of your reputation, it has hounded my dynasty for centuries. Oh, I do know of your age also’ the man returned, his voice contrasting against that of Helios who simply pursed his puckered lips. Helios had once been an handsome man, now his face was cragged with dozens of wrinkles and a mere slither of white hair covered his head, strands of which slipped down past his eyes.

‘Answer my question cur, or I shall allow Markus here’ he indicated the struggling Arbitrator with one hand ‘His folly. Do you know what happens to a Grox caught in the pen of a Shard-Lion?’ the Inquisitor added a threatening tone to his voice, and the inbuilt Psyker-Enhancers of his armour screamed in orgasmic fury.

‘Please Inquisitor, your friend does not scare me. I have come across much worse foes than him. And this is my pen, and a Shard-Lion does not answer to a Grox. But this Grox is stronger than he looks, so I shall allow you your pleasures’ with that he eagle spread his arms and angled them backwards so that his sleeves fell from his form, closely followed by the remainder of his greatcoat. It revealed a black bodysuit which hugged his form perfectly, bisected into dozens of sections by brown strands of leather.

Upon many rested blades of the finest mastery, each slipped into their own form fitting sheaths. Helios saw at least two Bolt-Pistols; although only one had a magazine currently slotted into it. The bulge of well worked muscles stood prominent upon his arms and legs and it was only now that Helios realised this man was not bluffing that Markus did not scare him. Upon his hip rested a long blade of silver, woven with gold and studded with emeralds. Certainly a fine blade, one of which would sell for great amounts on the markets of the Imperium.

‘I, Lord-Inquisitor Helios am Lucius Strabo, final heir of the Strabo dynasty, infertile and unworthy to continue my line. I have heard you are looking to hire a vessel for your journeys into the Eastern Fringe. I pledge my vessel to your duties, think of it as a parting gift from my dear father. Now, shall we discuss matters somewhere more private?’

Helios knew the name shockingly well. The powerful afterimage of a bloody man amongst a tide of flames flashed into his mind, the eyes gaping abysses of waning pain. Helios shook his head and stared into the bright eyes of Lucius. He returned the gesture and reclaimed his greatcoat, shrugging it onto his form. Helios nodded, and advanced up the steps after his fellow. Behind him the pair of Adeptus Arbites conversed quietly and gave the newcomer hateful glances.

++++++++

The pair continued to walk through the vast cathedral and gently conversed with one another, Eighteen Vogan Storm-Guardsmen, each clad in overlapping grey plate, met Helios and his small entourage when they entered the main hall. Under the command of Interrogator Kristiaan Balthazar, each gave Lucius measuring looks and their studded gauntlets grew tighter around the hafts of their Shock-Maces. The Shock-Maces were brutal looking weapons, with a wide head cast in silver that was dotted with small spikes and a long angular haft. The Vogan Storm-Guardsmen carried Bolt-Pistols at their hips, each of which had a small bayonet attached beneath the stock. Reflective glass helms formed into death masks of the first Vogan Consul obscured their tanned features, but Helios knew they would be scowling now.

Kristiaan Balthazar was an handsome fellow, with a tuff of salt-and-pepper hair atop a well thought out face of high bones and perfective features. He was adorned in a formfitting bodysuit that portrayed the bulges of a well worked musculature system perfectly and a cloak of crimson filtered from his wide shoulders, blowing in the artificial breeze of the Sanctum Inderian. The world of Inderian was an insignificant jewel in the endless tide of stars, a mere bobbing gold-silver mass that was visited by both pilgrims and the Inquisition annually.

The stares of the Vogans did not vex Lucius though, and he continued to converse quietly with someone aboard his ship in a guttural low-gothic. Helios ignored that as he took Kristiaan by the wrist and pulled him off towards the side of the jewel inlaid room, slipping between a pair of emerald pillars and into the shadows. A quick flick of his wrist dismissed a cleaning Servitor that was leaving a trail of slick, yellow liquid behind it as it shambled along on four piston powered legs. Kristiaan’s regal eyes met the crimson hued ones of Helios and both stepped away from one another, although their gaze was still locked.

‘And who is our new companion, Master?’ blurted out Kristiaan in a tone of agitation, his smooth and well taught high-gothic not even masking that something was playing upon the fictional chords of his mind.

‘He is the son of an old associate of mine Kris, I trusted his father greatly and thus far his aura has shown only genuine thoughts. His name is Lucius Strabo, I believe his ship was the magnificent Absolutum Dominium, at least she served the Strabo dynasty when I last visited their base of operations’ retorted Helios quickly, sniffing to himself as a slave bearing a crate of cooked flesh moved past the pair.

‘I am sorry Lord-Inquisitor but I did not take notice. There was an entire Imperial Navy battle fleet bolstering in orbit when we arrived, that kindled my interest more than some Crag-Frig-’

‘Oh please Kris. The Dominium was the cerulean splashed Avenger Grand Cruiser at the apex, she is no mere Crag-Frigate. She is old, but I can assure you she is deadlier than a rampant Tyranid.’ Helios rudely interrupted his fellow, not caring for the feelings or opinions of Kristiaan.

Kristiaan’s face turned red and he nibbled on his lip with perfect rowed teeth, each of which was alabaster and embedded with a small ruby. He comprehended his next words slowly and carefully, and the noise of the two Arbites laughing with a Vogan was loud in the ears of the two, although Helios was more strained due to him being able to pick up their inner thoughts. A vein on his temple bulged and with each passing heartbeat it rippled as a slow wave of blood passed through. Kristiaan bore no such weakness, he was not a Psyker like his master and if it was not for the electoo of the Inquisition symbol upon his right breast he could have passed for a normal Imperial citizen.

“Lucius has offered his services to our next investigation. I have not deemed him as a threat thus far and will only take Markus and Albrecht into the Inner Chambers. I do not want to intimidate our new friend after all, do I Kristiaan? Keep the Storm-Guard alert but do not act out of place. This is a place of worship remember Kris, I do not want the Vogans running around like madmen, got it?’ this time Helios showed his commanding tone and his fingers flexed, a small sparkle of ethereal electricity weaving around each.

‘I understand Master’ was the terse reply and Kristiaan bowed deeply, his cloak fluttering along the edges. Silently he pulled himself upright and trudged away, grumbling something beneath his breath. Of course he knew that if Helios truly wanted to know what he said, he could peal his mind like a fruit to get it.

Albrecht and Markus, his loaned Arbitrator veterans stood at the ready next to Lucius, who was gently broadcasting a famed Imperial ballad across the Vox embedded into his throat and each vowel was stretched and akin to a thousand pebbles rustling. The static of Inderian was a terrible, ear piercing thing. Two of the Inquisitorial servants aboard the Aquila Ascendant, the Black-Ship which had bore Helios and his small private army too Inderian, had already been deafened by the static storms that wracked the planet every twelve hours and Helios had been forced to gift them with earpieces.

The Sanctum Inderian was a small walk away, through a series of tightly wound crystal tunnels that were lined with banners of past Inderian legends. In five metre intervals stood murals and collages of the Emperor, each depicting a different moment in his life. Markus and Albrecht led the way, striking the butts of their shotguns into the ribs of any who fell near with sickening crunches, or simply toggling their aim upon the heads of the menials. It proved to be successful and they moved unhindered into the Sanctum Inderian.

It was a vast amphitheatre of polished oaken benches and platinum pillars, each of which were draped in fluttering decorations weaved from the finest material. Some three hundred attendants held these in place, each of them wearing a fine suit of armour that was clearly more for show than actual use. The Inquisitor waved his hand and each let their great tapestries free before marching away from the Sanctum, slowly bustling from the doors. When they were done Markus and Albrecht took to the tiers with a auspex that beeped sporadically as they slowly ascended and then descended for a second sweep.

Only when they gave the “OK” signal that Helios and Lucius advanced inwards from the doorway, and the true magnificence came into the light. High and arched, the Sanctum Inderian was formed from a strong and durable glass that portrayed the Nine True Sons of the Emperor and their father around a long table, each bearing a symbol of their Legion in skeletal hands. Great shadows were cast down upon the stands and they twisted and turned as the green-orange polluted clouds spun in a ethereal wind. At the centre of the room the floor was raised, with two flights of marble steps leading up to a square table of silver and inlaid gold.

The Arbitrators took up positions near the entrance, with Albrecht on the left and Markus on the right, both facing outwards into the lengthy hallway before them. Lucius and Helios meanwhile took a seat on the white, high-backed chairs opposite each over and small goblets of wine slowly rose from the table on whining servos. Lucius was quick to grab his, sloshing the liquid around idly before finally throwing his head back and letting it slip downwards.

‘Typical Inderian hospitality…’ muttered Lucius as he slammed the drinking instrument back onto its place, shaking the metal platform which had bore it up.

‘Hmm? Please do enlighten my young Strabo?’ returned Helios, genuinely curious as to what he meant. Regnant in nature, Helios was not one too usually ask questions, however he abided to the laws of the Inderian that only a Inderian-borne could actually command the Cathedral-City and because of this he felt rather weak.

‘It’s bloody warm. In the three months since I have been on Inderian I have found out three things. Firstly is that the women are pompous whores, and that they spread gossip faster than a wildfire. Secondly is that they dislike Rogue Traders, thus the hostility to me and the majority of the Inderian Cartel. Thirdly is that the Inderian wine is a lush thing, but the bastards refuse to serve it as anything other than warm’ with that Lucius chuckled and Helios found himself joining in, his mirth fat and warm.

‘I see you have a sense of humour Lucius’ Helios said to his fellow, and the Rogue Trader, bright cheeked and wet eyed nodded while wiping the back of his sleeve across his face. The sparkling globules in his eyes were dragged free and he licked his lips, looking up at the displayed art above.

‘So Lord-Inquisitor, I have offered my hand in your next travels. My father served with you for a long time until his unfortunate disappearance; along with the majority of our fleet….’ he trailed off for a moment, looking solemn ‘And I am hoping you will allow me to return his appreciation for allowing our family to set up posts on the worlds you burned…’ again he trailed off, something drawing his attention in the stands. He shook his head clear of thoughts and turned back to face Helios, looking absent.

‘Are you fit to continue Rogue Trader?’ asked Helios, not wanting his possible future business partner to make a deal that he would regret.

‘Ah…Yes…My sincere apologies Lord-Inquisitor, my mind got sidetracked….As I was saying, my ship and its crew are yours to bode with as you wish. However I only want one thing.’ he finally talked, his voice wavering slightly at first but slowly regaining its tranquil toning.

‘I thank you, Lucius Strabo. Whatever you wish I will have it done, but tell me, what is it?’

‘I am glad you have decided to allow me my wishes. There is one thing that I must see before I pass onto the Emperor’s Realm’

‘Anything young Strabo, just tell me and I will grant your wish’

‘Very well. I wish to visit the sight where my father was last seen. I must find him Helios, if I do not I will never be complete’

Helios felt his mental grip on the table tighten and the marble splintered and cracked, a spider web pattern slowly spreading out across its surface. The goblet of wine he held fell apart and the red, lucid liquid burnt into the ground beneath him. His eyes flashed with rage before he quelled it and apologised briskly. Slowly he got up and left an astounded Rogue Trader alone in the Sanctum Inderian, pondering upon what he had done to anger the Lord-Inquisitor.

++++++++

Lucius Strabo stood upon the expansive primary hanger of the Absolutum Dominium in a set of marvelous power armour. It was not as bulky as that worn by Helios but rather a lither version with well rounded curves and long limbs. A cloak of feathers fluttered from his shoulders in the artificial breeze, a cold yet soothing thing that caused his skin to erupt with shivering. Behind him stood a block of three hundred Huscarls of House Strabo, the esteemed Straborian Guard, each one embellished in emerald robes and bearing silver pole arms. Off towards either side of these were phalanxes of eighty Gun-Servitors, each adorned in gleaming silver armour lined with swirls of emerald sheen metal.

While Lucius could not see the bulk of the Aquila Ascendant he knew full well that the ship was stalking towards his own vessel like a starved shark. Three hours had passed since Helios had quit Inderian and Lucius had followed in his wake, preparing his vessel for the intake it was about to receive. He had assembled a good portion of his namesake Straborian Invigilators for this upcoming meeting and had ordered the hundred and thirty or so shuttles which usually lined the primary hanger to be taken into the machine decks below.

There had been no further contact between Helios and Lucius, Interrogator Balthazar had apologized for his Masters outburst however, stating that the Warp had grown fickle and caused him to retire. He had also informed Lucius to prepare the Dominium for immediate Warp transport. He had not informed Lucius of coordinates however and thus Lucius could not prepare fully but simply had to await the arrival of the Inquisitorial staff. And now they were coming. A Frigate that Lucius had been watching wan in the distance was blotched out by something utterly immense and black.

The Black Ships of the Imperium were magnificent things. Long and sleek like a gladius, they traveled secret shipping lines in search of the Psyker population. The Aquila Ascendant bristled with long fat bodied cannons and small pinpricks of light could be seen flashing as hangers opened to unleash a tide of transports. The bridge of the Black Ship was a giant tower-like structure that was even more invisible from the eyes of the Imperium than her body and even when Lucius could make out the forests of masts upon its head he had to blink to make sure it was not just his eyes playing tricks upon him.

The first of the transports to breach the protective Pomerium of the hanger, a crackling discordant void shield, was nothing particularly impressive. It was short and stubby, with a single pair of cannons attached to its side on swirling tracks. It landed and a pair of hissing palls of steam burst from its hull, wetting the deck beneath it with glistening blobs. It sat there like an immobile guardian, not releasing any noise or passengers as a second and third of its kind followed. The fourth was a bulkier vessel painted khaki and it slowly twisted inwards, its hull sparking and dancing with electricity.

It landed several metres from the Straborian Invigilators’ first line, and like a groaning dragon it opened up from beneath. A ramp of corroded steel clanged down and the sound of footsteps became loud in the ears of Lucius. A hundred of the Vogan Storm-Guard descended, their Shock-Maces held at the ready, marched from the vessel and spread out before Invigilators. Another two hundred and fifty of the Storm-Guard arrived and took up a curled position around the Invigilators, with the men towards the apex of the flanks curling around the Gun-Servitor ranks.

Fifteen more transports entered, some disgorging Inquisitorial menials and Storm-Guardsmen while others simply rested idle at their designated zones. The final shuttle which entered was a behemoth. Consisting of five decks, with a dozen or so small point defence cannons and various other turrets, it was shaped into the visage of an Inquisitorial “I”. The rear was dominated by a large triangular structure that was evidently the bridge, and Lucius noted figures moving behind the red tinted viewing ports as it spat out clouds of steam. Slowly it landed a short distance away and Lucius moved off to meet those within, eight Invigilators accompanying him as a escort.

A ramp clanged down deafeningly and Lucius shirked slightly, wanting to turn around and march away. The first to march down was twelve of the Storm-Guard, each draped in red togas and bearing Power-Swords before them. Some kind of elite, obviously. Next down was a strong faced Vogan, bearing his helm in the crook of one arm. His tanned features were marred by a series of interlocking scars and his left eye was a glazed over white ball. A pelt of black hair fell from his head, slipping down his shoulders and chest easily.

Both of his hands ended in long claws that crackled with eldritch mauve energies. The obsidian gauntlets he wore were nearly obscured beneath dozens of small alabaster scriptures, each formed into a leering skull. Upon his shoulders he carried a Sand-Leopard cloak, and its dotted features spun behind him as he scanned the approaching party. He took up a position at the centre of the eight Storm-Guardsmen, his glass helm reflecting the face of the encroaching Lucius.

Next down was a beautiful woman. He curved body was hidden beneath a single piece bodysuit of orange with yellow dashes across the shoulders and chest and it pulled and twisted with each step she took. Her blonde mane was pulled into a high topknot above her head and her cheekbones flanked burgundy eyes, of which she stared at Lucius strangely. Upon her back, from right shoulder to left hip was a ornate curved blade with a golden plating along the edge. She took a step next to Leopard-Man, and the Storm-Guardsmen once again shimmied over to allow he entry.

Next down was the pair of Arbitrators, both of them now without their helms, of which were buckled at their hips. Markus was skinny faced and untouched by years of violence, but both of his eyes had transformed into swirling orbs of blackness. His short crop of salt-and-pepper hair was ruffled by invisible fingers and curling towards the edges. The sides of his head were nearly devoid of hair, a standard military cut realised Lucius. Albrecht was a handsome deviant. Dark of complexion and with a wolfish face, both of his eyes sparkled as he locked them on Lucius and smiled to reveal rows of perfect teeth.

Both of these stood towards either side of the Storm-Guard, with one on the right and the other on the left, their shotguns wracked and ready. Next down was a shriveled figure in purple robes, hunched and carrying a leather book across his chest with liver spotted hands. Hooked yellow nails traced the Imperial Eagle as he came to rest behind the main group, his face shadowed by the hood over his head.

He was followed by a tall and muscular man, easily rivaling the size of a bear. Clad in a suit of armour not dissimilar to that which the Storm-Guard wore, his movements were constricted and robotic. His features were scowled and badly scarred. A three pronged braided beard covered his lower face, falling down to his midsection like fat arachnid legs. This man bore no hair upon his scalp but covered it with complicated tattoos. In his hands he carried a Bolter enriched with jewelry, and at his side rested a long crimson Chainsword.

A shambling Sage came next, nameless and wielding a series of scrolls in its multiple spindly hands. Behind this came a green robed figure who was taller than the majority upon the deck. Think and deathly pale, the man steadied himself with a wooden staff topped with a grinning bleached skull. His face was rigid and splotched with red patches and across his forehead he wore a clothe of sparkling red, and both of his eyes lacked the iris completely so that they were simple white globes. Finally came Interrogator Balthazar and Lord-Inquisitor Helios. Both were adorned in crimson power armour that screeched loudly as they flexed limbs and marched down, pushing past the assembled forces to meet with Lucius.

‘A dashing assembly, Lucius’ intoned Helios as he took his hand and shook it enthusiastically, a toothy grin spread across his face.

‘I am glad you improve Lord-Inquisitor, I seek only to please after all. You yourself have blown me out of the water though, the Storm-Guard are a superb sight. And your Retinue…Well your Retinue is a brash looking bunch’ replied the Rogue Trader warmly as he pulled away his hand and rubbed it into his armoured side.

‘Ah yes, the Retinue. Do you care to meet them? I assure you will be working closely with them in the coming months’ Helios asked this quietly, but when he confirmed the latter his voice rose suddenly like the booming of a volcano.

‘Hmm, I was hoping to do so in a much more private place. However if you insist I will happily clasp gauntlets with your fellows’

With that the trio spun away and marched towards the awaiting Retinue, cloaks flipping behind them as they did so. First they moved towards the claw wielding man, who looked down at Lucius distastefully. He was an imposing figure but Lucius did not care, he had met far more ugly things than a simple Vogan, however ferocious he appeared. His nostrils flared and he outstretched his right arm, the blades of his fingers skimming over one another ear piercingly.

‘This, Lucius Strabo, is Captain Scipio Thorn of the Vogan Storm-Guard. He looks grudging at first but I assure you that he is a warmer fellow than he appears’ Helios stated as Lucius took the hand of Thorn hesitatingly and found himself shaking it. The Lord-Inquisitor and the Captain chuckled quietly when the Inquisitor had finished his introduction. They parted and moved towards the beautiful siren.

‘This, is Mira Ekaterina. A fine lady that is sure, though try not to slander her, she has the rage of a Shard-Lion’ Mira leaned over when he had finished and passionately kissed Lucius on the lips, her eyes twinkling as she pulled away. She smiled and Lucius felt his cheeks warming and looked away shyly. She chuckled, her voice smoother than that of Lucius’s and Helios moved them along.

The shriveled man pushed through to meet the pair but kept his head bowed, and Lucius felt a cold pang of regret for some unknown reason.

‘This is Nathanael, my personal biographer. Don’t expect him to speak however; his voice is for my hearing only’ Nathanael did not outstretch his hand but simply stood there, leaving Lucius feeling abandoned. This one was certainly strange, and Lucius would avoid him whenever he possibly could.

The Bear-Man came to them rather than them moving towards him. He utterly dwarfed those around him, even Lucius and his pair of Inquisitorial companions in power armour. Upon his body was a set of browned leather trimmed with an extensive amount of ruffled furs. One of his shoulders was studded and bore the head of a snarling Wolf in crimson paint, and now Lucius realised that upon his hip rested a gilded helm formed into the visage of a skull. He let his Bolter fall and the sound of a jerking chain resounded loudly, and the Bolter jerked and dangled at his hip.

He gripped the wrists of Lucius and pulled him in close and proceeded to let go and wrap both of his arms around the back of the Rogue Trader. He leaned back and brought Lucius up into the air, straining as he did so. The bear hug was ineffective in his power armour and the man dropped Lucius back down, laying a hand on his shoulder. When he realised he had embarrassed the Rogue Trader slightly he laughed, a deep and booming mirth which echoed around the hanger like a gunshot.

‘This, Lucius is the loveable Gunthar. Catachan borne and bred, although he has never actually seen his world. Gunthar has served with me since he was a mere babe now, I am sure you two will get along excellently’ Helios finished this as Gunthar moved back into the crowd, having fallen silent when his adoptive father had spoke. He was perhaps the most welcoming of the Retinue, and by far the most normal. At least apart from Mira, beautiful, beautiful Mira.

The Sage was a worthless addition and the trio simply walked past it, a odd chirping emitting from its throat Vox. The final figure, the tall bandana wearing man looked down on all free, his elongated neck clad in shimmering rings of gold and silver. The long, disjointed fingers of his free hand reached out and touched Lucius on the face and for a moment his mind flashed with pictures of a swirling miasma filled with mourning souls.

‘And finally, this is my personnel Navigator, Odyssean. I trust your own Navigators will not mind his presence, he is of the finest House of Terra.’ Helios seemed commanding this time and Lucius nodded as he realised what the bandana was obscuring. The Warp-Touched eye of the Navigator, aptly named the Third Eye could be seen in a state of R.E.M. beneath the clothe, moving its surface as it did so.

‘Hmm…A fine specimen Helios’ intoned Odyssean, his voice harsh and akin to a glacier moving along a rough rock bed as he rubbed his fingers alone the facial structure of Lucius. He took his chin in the curl of his fingers and lifted it up, staring at his throat. Lucius did not feel fear at the sight of the Navigator, but the ebony blade which he saw beneath the folds of his robes looked rather peculiar, glowing amber in the hanger light.

‘Only fine? Oh how I am flattered..’ muttered Lucius, rolling his eyes as he did so. Odyssean was certainly a scanning fellow, and Lucius had no doubt he had already identified a genetic weakness in his stance. The Rogue Trader pulled his head away and stepped back, his lips pursed and his eyes angled.

‘Do not be an intolerant whelp now youngling. Your father was not of this kind, perhaps you should take a page from his book’ retorted Odyssean his voice threateningly strong, and he stepped back, reaching into a pouch nestled at his side.

‘You….You knew my father also?’ enquired Lucius, biting back a series of tears and swallowing the lump which was building in his throat.

‘That I did. Your father was a good man before his unfortunate fate caught up with him, I have high expectations from you.’ Odyssean pulled a blue slate from his pouch and handed it over towards Lucius ‘This is our destination, hand it over too your Navigators as soon as possible. I have mediation to attend, I will proceed to the bridge when I am done’

Lucius read the slate carefully, tracing the numbers with his thumb slowly. His mouth fell half open and his eyes glistened with renewed vigor and he looked up at the face of Odyssean; stating ‘But these coordinates…’ the Navigator smiled a warm smile, his face glowing red as Lucius finished ‘They cannot be correct….This sector….It is Macragge’.

Nyctophobia- Fear of the Dark Angel.

"No one ever spoke about of those two absent brothers. Their separate tragedies had seemed like aberrations. Had they, in fact, been warnings that no one had heeded?"

'Killing a man is like fucking, boy, only instead of giving life you take it. You experience the ecstasy of penetration as your warhead enters the enemy's belly and the shaft follows. You see the whites of his eyes roll inside the sockets of his helmet. You feel his knees give way beneath him and the weight of his faltering flesh draw down the point of your spear. Are you picturing this?'
'Yes, lord.'
'Is your dick hard yet?'
'No, lord.'
''What? You've got your spear in a man's guts and your dog isn't stiff? What are you, a woman?'

Last edited by dark angel; 06-26-10 at 04:32 PM.
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post #2 of 3 (permalink) Old 06-26-10, 11:49 PM
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Whoa....wish i could write like this i am sooo into this....wow
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post #3 of 3 (permalink) Old 06-27-10, 04:02 PM Thread Starter
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Gothik you flatter me really appreciate the kind words! Here's a "background" part, to expand somewhat on Helios. Hope you enjoy:

Helios sat within his quarters as the Warp spun, concaving and milling around the silver shield of the ship was it pushed deeper and harder. The Absolutum Dominium had traversed the forever changing expanses of the Empyrean for three months now, and Helios was starting to grow ill. As a Psyker he felt the temptations of its dark entities harder than anyone else, he felt their claws dig into his soul in a brutal and messed up attempt to entice him. For days he had not left his atrium like quarters, and instead simply sat and stared up at the swirling miasma of greens, oranges and browns. It was a bountiful, enriched thing.

Several times Helios swore that he could see the brutal shapes of Imperial vessels around them, ghostly shimmers that flashed and then dissipated into nothingness. He was probably correct. Thousands of ships had been lost within the Warp, and it was not unknown for their spectres to be seen wandering forever, their crews damned to an eternal torment. He rubbed his fingers across his face and felt flakes of grime peel away and that was followed by a sickening smell. It was a variety of spittle, food and snot and each was slowly hardening upon his flesh. He caressed his cheeks until they came free of any smudges of dirt and slowly pulled himself up.

He was forced to use a desk as support as the half-forgotten capability of walking returned to him and he took a good look at his surroundings. His room was dimly lit by a globe in the corner that radiated golden-white light, however it was struggling currently and cast flickering shadows around the quarters. In one corner rested his bed, a wide and long thing formed from softness and bounds of cloth. A high headboard reached upwards to where a portrait of a former Lord Strabo stood, its golden eyes staring down at the bed itself. The sheets were curved towards the centre and half-dangled, although Helios did not care about that.

The Inquisitor surveyed the other half of his room. Clean and scarce the only major difference from the one he sat in was the shoulder deep engraftment in the ground. Sparkling water rested there, and it swirled in artificial currents formed from a fan at the centre of the pool. It had degenerated from a gentle current into a thrashing whirlpool and slowly the tiled floor around it had become slippery and hazardous. Even further away from that rested a shimmering field of energy that held his armour aloft, including his helm.

Formed from gold and dotted with crimson jewels, it had a single blue visor across the front that was situated just beneath a stylized U. The Ultramarines and Helios had a long running history, and the helm which he carried with him was said to have been crafted by Chief-Techmarine Arius in the aftermath of the Horus Heresy. Not dissimilar to a burgonet, along its rivet rested a crimson plume formed from hundreds of well ranked bristles. Bar the single cyclopean eye piece, the helm was formed into the handsome features of the Primarch Roboute Guilliman and with each look upon it, Helios felt a pang of sadness.

It had been physically remodeled, and now very little remained of the original name. It had been a forgotten relic passed from brother to brother, and only by luck had it been gifted to Helios by the late Librarian Satieties. It was an heavy thing and it obscured his senses, thus why Helios tended to leave it be during his campaigns. Helios looked over towards the pair of bronze arched doors which kept him from the remainder of the ship, a large beam holding them in place and sighed. He had intentionally secluded himself from the outside, realizing that if the fickle entities of the Warp did manage to take a hold of him, he could cause the downfall of the entire ship.

It had been an idiotic thing to do and only a battered Servitor had been his company. Nathanael had came for the first few days, but soon the Lord-Inquisitor had ordered him to watch from the installed image captors that he had placed around the room. That Servitor had been destroyed in a fit of rage however, popped in a ball of amniotic fluids, oiling and hunkered flesh. Having once been a teacher back on Titan, Helios knew the importance of patience greatly. But the shambling thing had simply kept buzzing on, and when Helios had finally received a migraine from its cold tone he had tapped into his unholy gifts.

Only his thoughts and the spiraling Warp accompanied him now. It was a boring thing, with nothing more to do than idle around and twiddle his thumbs. Tantalisingly the aromas of meat had spread into his hallway and he found his gut rumbling and shaking spasmodically, however he quelled this by sending a jolt of pain along his nervous system, effectively knocking it out. Helios could feel the golden heartbeat of the Astronomicon and felt it ripple in the Warp as if a capstan was striking the irregular tides.

The Absolutum Dominium bobbed in the incorporeal eddies of the Warp, its hull hidden beneath a shield-skin. Helios felt the hull reverberating beneath him, shaking uncontrollably as if in the clutches of a playful child. He heard an alarm blare, its shrill voice sounding in the decks below and he imagined the red bathed Straborian servants running for safety. An incoherent feeling struck him and he nearly stumbled too the ground, and if it had not been for the desk which had helped him up he would have struck it hard. He regained his composure and nodded as the klaxons whined one last time and died.

There was no point in fearing the Warp. Yes, it was a deadly place inhabited by even deadlier things, but Helios had traveled it thousands of times in his four centuries of service to the Holy God-Emperor, and he was not about to be scared by wives tales now. If anything was to do wrong, he would simply turn to his spatha. He could see it behind his armour upon a wooden stand and marveled at its masterpiece. A burnished material long lost to the Imperium, the blade was long and thin. The tip was bathed in a mixture of adamantium and ceramite to give it a stronger edge and the pommel was formed into the visage of an Imperial Eagle.

The twin heads formed the guards of the spatha, both of which had small blades embedded where the beaks would originally have resided. Its wings formed curved hand guards, both of which left little room for maneuvering fingers when in battle. Helios had been gifted this centuries previously by his deceased Master, and he felt a pang of regret for letting him fall. Beneath the raised blade, upon a woolen scarlet clothe rested a ornamental Bolt-Pistol. Inlaid with swirls of gold and emerald, formed into a series of interlocking weaves and spirals. He turned and moved back to his bed, letting himself fall onto it spread-eagled. Not long now at all.

Nyctophobia- Fear of the Dark Angel.

"No one ever spoke about of those two absent brothers. Their separate tragedies had seemed like aberrations. Had they, in fact, been warnings that no one had heeded?"

'Killing a man is like fucking, boy, only instead of giving life you take it. You experience the ecstasy of penetration as your warhead enters the enemy's belly and the shaft follows. You see the whites of his eyes roll inside the sockets of his helmet. You feel his knees give way beneath him and the weight of his faltering flesh draw down the point of your spear. Are you picturing this?'
'Yes, lord.'
'Is your dick hard yet?'
'No, lord.'
''What? You've got your spear in a man's guts and your dog isn't stiff? What are you, a woman?'
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